Sunday Nostalgia & Test Acing

So, there I was, getting ready for yet another somnambulant Sunday when my intentions once again ran head-on into a Panamanian whirlwind. I was walking down the stairs to start my Sunday bike ride when my Favorite Panamanian asked, in such a way that she knows I cannot deny her, to attend mass in the church back in Charlton. We hadn’t been back since we moved from Charlton in 2015 but we had a lot of fond memories there, including my daughter’s wedding and especially the pastor, Father Bob.

The Old House Yesterday

What it Looked Like When We Moved Out

After a speedy workout, an even faster shower, and alarm grade attiring I was ready to depart and noticed we had twenty six minutes to get to the church. I usually plan at least thirty minutes when traveling back there so this presented a challenge. Never one to balk at a seemingly impossible LD time when the only hindrance are speed limits, we pulled into the church parking lot twenty minuets after leaving home (a few of the aforementioned speed limits may have been fractured). The lack of Sunday traffic also helped. This was earlier than we used to arrive when lived only five minutes away. It was very nostalgic to be back in the church we attended for nearly ten years and Father Bob even remembered us.

That Driveway

After the church service we drove by our old house. My Favorite Panamanian was aghast at the poor condition the new owners were maintaining “her” gardens. I was on the verge of forcibly restraining her from leaping out of the car and starting to weed. It was the height of nostalgia to see the house again. The front stairs I built are still standing which was a minor surprise and the trees we planted had almost doubled in height. I was feeling a little melancholy and missing the place until we passed by the “driveway from hell” and all the reasons for moving out were reinforced. I remembered the hours spent keeping that wretched passage open during the winter months as I sped away and after a much more sedate drive home, pulled into my very short driveway. Nostalgia can only go so far.

D-Day

Speaking of reminiscence, I’ve noticed a sea change in how society treats June 6^th. It was huge deal when I was growing up as the anniversary of not only the D-Day invasion but also the Battle of Midway two years before that. My parents’ entire generation had passed through the crucible of World War 2 and I can’t emphasize how important an influence that was. Those two battles marked the turning points in the two major theaters of that war and the people who lived through it always remembered with almost reverence. It’s something we’ve lost. I've posted this video before but it still brings tears to my eyes. I guess not everyone has forgotten.

I accordance with the strict guidance from the family’s resident medical authority, the Great Aunt, I am honor bound to report the latest PSA test results. I have a follow up appointment this week with the urology surgeon so I had the obligatory test last week. Since I can now see my results in real time due to computerized medical records access, I saw that I am still at non-detectable levels for PSA. It’s kind of scary that I now can interpret PSA test results but that’s what a cancerous prostate will do to you. So, we’re coming up on three years, post-surgery and I’m at where I’m supposed to be, according to this test, cancer free. That rates as good news.

We heard virtually nothing from the FBR over the weekend, to include the Family First Friday and last night I learned why. She had a Friday evening and Sunday afternoon birthday parties to attend (and dominate I’m sure) as well as a play date. Sprinkled between the parties was an overnight trip to a Pocono lake cabin with a return for Sunday swim lessons. She claimed to not be tired but I assign that to well-placed six year old bravado versus the truth. Up in New Hampshire I’m waiting to hear if my Favorite Son survived a “Guys Weekend” where a bunch of his college buddies (all dads now) escaped child care for the weekend by renting a party house in the mountains. Luckily, he seems to have finally discovered a hangover remedy that works for him.

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RECURRING CHARACTERS:                                         

ABFA – Amazing Best Family Athlete - my daughter in law; BR3 – Blog Reader #3 – granddaughter #3; BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel - second granddaughter; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; Curbside Girls – close friends of my daughter acquired during her single days in Brooklyn; Deckzilla – our backyard deck which grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of course); FBR - First Blog Reader - first granddaughter; First Friday – celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Keene Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene, NH; Kindergarten Friend – friend since kindergarten whom I reunited with after many years; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife – her US sisters, my wife is the 3^rd musquetera (musketeer); Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia member; PanaGals – female relatives /friends of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we have lived & their spouses; Pittsburgh College Roommate– high school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; Riggins - also known as the Grandpuppy, son's dog; Soxfather - my brother in law; Tia Loca – wife’s younger sister; Wingman – my son in law; Wingmom – Wingman’s mom, of course